


Reassurance

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has enough to fear--he doesn't want to worry about the last thing he said as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reassurance

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2013 and is now being crossposted here along with the rest of my work.

"Mulder, you're insane." Scully gave him that  _you've got to be kidding me_  look, the one where her eyebrows arched but didn't quite lift, her eyes gleamed, and her mouth couldn't decide whether to smile or gape.

"Just think about it, Scully. There have been myths regarding a surprisingly similar creature in every culture. They've even all had the same name."

"There are no such things as dragons, Mulder," Scully informed him. "Next thing you'll be telling me is you've found a unicorn."

He gave her that self-deprecating grin.  _Never change, Scully._

"You go down to the coroner's--I'll meet you there."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stop by the library, see if they've had similar attacks in the past."

Scully nodded. "Stay in touch." She turned to go.

"Scully." He grabbed her lightly, tugging on her coat. She followed his lead, letting him pull her back to him.

"I love you," he murmured, keeping his voice low so that no one passing by could hear them.

Scully nodded, the corner of her mouth quirking up for a moment before slipping from his grasp, her heels clipping quietly against the tiles.

He always said it to her, ever since they admitted what had been there since the beginning. The trust and respect had sprung up as quickly as the sexual tension, affection rapidly slipping into the relationship. Professionalism and other issues had held them back for years, until they accepted the inevitable and took that last step.

He had a lot of fears in life, the majority of them being centered around extraterrestrials. Recently, however, his most profound fear centered on Scully. They'd been separated from each other in various ways, and they'd both been taken. Enemies, both human and alien, could separate them again at any time. It would be bad enough to lose her. Hell, it would tear him in two to lose her. But he certainly didn't want the last thing they said to each other to be something stupid like  _remember the milk_  or  _the suspect is lying_. One of his greatest regrets was that the last time he was with Samantha, they'd been arguing. He didn't want to make the same mistake with Scully. If he lost her, he at least wanted her last memory of him to be that he loved her, because he did--stupidly and completely.

And so he told her. Every single time they left each other's company, he told her. He didn't expect a reply. He just needed her to know.

* * *

"I'm not trying to discredit you, Mulder, I'm saying that this is crazy! Saying that a  _theory_  is crazy is not the same as saying the  _person_  is crazy!" Scully looked ready to shoot him. He was suddenly glad that her gun was on the desk across the room, out of her reach.

"Could you at least wait until we're in private to tell me so, because you debunking my theories in front of the local police--for once, Scully, for once could you just stand behind me without me having to throw piles of evidence in your face?"

He knew he'd said the wrong thing when Scully went from angry to stone-faced faster than you could say "Syndicate."

"I have always stood behind you, Fox Mulder," she informed him, her voice sharp. "Even when it's cost me my job, my family, and nearly my life, I've stood behind you. And if you don't see that…"

She didn't finish the sentence. Out of the two of them, she'd always had the greater amount of self-control, and despite her anger she had the presence of mind to know when to cut herself off before she took things past the point of no return.

"I'm going out." She strode across the room as she said it, swiping the keys off the desk and closing the door forcefully behind her. He heard the car start up and peel out of the parking lot faster than drivers at the Indy 500.

A sense of dread settled into the pit of his stomach and he sank back onto the bed, feeling like he'd been sucker punched. They rarely argued despite their many disagreements, but when they did he always felt sick.

Of course, not as sick as he felt when he still hadn't heard from her six hours later.

It was swiftly approaching two a.m. and Scully had yet to check in with him. She hadn't driven back to D.C. or checked in at another motel, because she would have told him so. She couldn't have gotten another lead on the case because, again, she would have informed him.

He called Skinner, just in case. Understandably, their boss was not exactly happy to have been woken up at two a.m. Unfortunately, it was the first time he'd been awoken that night. Scully hadn't contacted the Assistant Director, either to inform him she was removing herself from the case or for any other reason. Mulder made his excuses and hung up, leaving Skinner to mutter curses, no doubt.

Six hours. Six hours and no word from her, no contact.

Who had her? Syndicate? The Colonists? Others, perhaps someone involved with their current case?

Guilt rushed through his veins. He'd done it. The one thing he above all did not want to do, and he'd gone and done it. Anything could have happened to her, and the last things they'd said to each other were hurtful and angry.

He swore to a God he wasn't sure existed that if he ever caught who'd hurt her, he was going to–

There was the sound of the key in the lock, and suddenly the door was open and she was there. A little wet and bedraggled looking, but safe and intact. And best of all, she didn't look hurt or lost or scared. She look tired, and a little worn out, but certainly not like she'd had to fight her way out of an abduction.

"Mulder, I–"

He didn't let her finish. He was across the room and crushing her to him before he even realized that he'd moved. She was so warm and soft, her skin like satin underneath his fingers, her body pliant as it molded itself to his. Whatever else she was going to say was muffled by his lips and swallowed by his mouth, the words swept away by his tongue. She dug her fingers into his back, kicking the door closed behind them.

"Jesus, Scully," he breathed into her hair, her beautiful sweet-smelling hair. God, he loved her hair. He loved  _her_. All of her.

"I'm sorry. I should've called, I realized that as I pulled in, but I just needed some time to calm down and think and…" She trailed off in that jerking way of hers, the words sounding stolen from her throat before she could voice them. "Mulder?"

He swiped his thumb over her cheek. "I thought…" He swallowed. "I can't… without you…"

_I can't work without you. I can't function without you. I can't breathe without you._

Scully smiled, her face softening. "I can't, either," she confided, echoing the sentiments that neither of them had the ability to voice.

They were always better at actions then words, anyway.

He picked her up, clutching at her perhaps a bit too tightly, but she made no protest. She made a mewling sound into his mouth that he eagerly swallowed as she grabbed at his shoulders and back, as desperate as he was. He didn't ever want to let her go.

He tried to get her clothes off, but it was a little difficult when he was not only carrying her but also kissing every inch of skin that he could reach. Scully slipped out of his grasp, pulling away in order to shuck off her clothes. He followed suit, seeing as it would get her back into his arms quicker. The second that the last article of clothing was discarded he snagged her arm, bringing her back to him. She came willingly, tugging him down with her towards the bed. He didn't want her out of his grasp, not tonight, so he crawled up so that he was sitting against the headrest, pulling her into his lap so that she was straddling him. Her face was ringed with the light from the cheap lamp by the bed, turning her red hair to a fiery halo, eclipsing all else in his line of sight. He couldn't quite reach her mouth at that angle, so he contented himself with kissing her neck and chest, running his mouth over the swell of her breasts, nibbling at the cross hanging from her neck. Scully arched into him, his hands spanning the smooth skin at her back. She was so smooth, so soft, and yet firm, a steady rock in a raging storm. She tasted like blackberries and cream, sugar and fresh earth, warmth and life.

She leaned forward, gasping slightly as she lifted herself up using the headboard, lowering herself onto him slowly. He nearly banged his head against the wood as he felt her surround him, clenching and unclenching. He felt the sweat slowly slide down her back, soaking into the skin of his fingers. He planted openmouthed kisses along her skin, lapping up the taste of her, sucking at her. He held her as tightly as he could, trying to stay as close as humanely possible. She eventually planted her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back so that she had enough room to properly maneuver.

He felt himself becoming lost in the sensations, becoming lost in her. The feel of her around him, with him, inside of him in her own way, was enough to make him forget everything. Their current case, the constantly looming threats, the shadows that stalked them, his own guilt and pain--it was all gone in those moments when he was with her.

He felt it approaching, a roaring of blood in his ear, the pleasure within him gathering into one concentrated point that threatened to drown him. He felt her clench and ripple around him, her eyelids fluttering and her breaths becoming breathy gasps. He forced his eyes to stay open, willing himself to watch as she fell apart, her back arching and mouth falling open into a juicy little  _oh_. She whispered his name, her voice wracked and ravaged, and he couldn't handle it anymore. The pleasure cascaded over him in a wave and his eyes slammed shut, his hips jerking without finesse or control. It was a veritable storm, assaulting him from all sides, delicious and overwhelming, almost deadly in how he was consumed by it. But through it all he could feel her, the hot skin buzzing beneath his fingertips, her pulse fluttering and thumping through his body as her chest pressed against his, almost as if they were sharing a heart instead of possessing two independent respiratory systems.

He knew that he shouted, although he wasn't sure what--probably her name, since she was all he was capable of thinking about in those moments. When the tsunami receded, becoming a gentle lapping of pleasurable waves that faded from his body little by little, he was able to see again. Scully was still panting a little, her hair disheveled instead of in its usual pristine condition, her face flushed and sticky with sweat.

"That's quite an apology," she commented in that dry way of hers, her mouth twisting wryly. He wanted to make a smart comment but found he hadn't quite recovered the use of his vocal chords, so he nuzzled at her clavicle instead. He noted, with no small measure of pride, the reddened patches of skin and various bruises dotting her chest and neck. A deep, animal part of him felt vindicated, satisfied that if anyone took her, at least they'd know exactly who she belonged to, an erotic way to mark what was his.

Of course, he'd never be stupid enough to tell her such a thing. She'd shoot him in the shoulder and tell him the scar was  _her_  mark of ownership.

Scully hummed as he kissed along her neck, her arms winding around him, entangling him in her web of limbs and love. She slipped off of him, turning so that she was properly curled in his lap, letting him hold her as tight as he wanted.

Everywhere from romance novels to popular films to porn, he had heard women described as goddesses, angels, temptresses… everything otherworldly, both good and bad. Yet he didn't think Scully was any of those things. He'd dealt with the otherworldly, and it wasn't exactly good sex material. Scully was the most earthy, homebound,  _real_  thing he had ever encountered. She wasn't something from another world, from Heaven or Hell. She wasn't more or less than common mortals. She was human, and simple, and honest in both her actions and in who she was.

In his mind, that made her more beautiful than anything.

Scully murmured something, but he didn't catch it.

"What was that?"

She gave him her  _normally you'd be in trouble but I'm going to let it slide this time_  look. "I tell you that I love you and you're too lost in thought to pay attention?"

Wait--what?

"You said… what?"

Scully nipped at his shoulder, her teeth scraping gently along his skin. "I said that I love you," she explained patiently, as if she were describing the role of electrolytes in the aging process.

He was pretty sure that he was staring. Maybe even goggling. He couldn't think of anything to say. She hadn't ever said it before. He'd known it, on some level, just as they'd known that they were inevitable. Scully didn't talk. She acted. He harbored no doubts about her commitment to their relationship. But still, to hear it out loud…

"Mulder?" She looked a little worried, her eyes rounding out and peeking up at him.

He shook himself out of his shock. "It's just…" His lips tugged upwards into a smile and he shrugged one shoulder. "I just like hearing you say it, I guess. I wasn't sure you'd ever say it."

"Well you say it every time I leave your line of sight, so I figured it's only fair," Scully replied, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. "And after our fight I--well, we're going to fight again, but I wanted you to know for certain." She looked into his eyes. He loved her eyes, so blue and clear and guileless. Her eyes weren't the kind that you could read like a book. You couldn't tell exactly what she was thinking or feeling by looking into them. She was too reserved and professional for that. But they were indeed the windows to her soul, because they were as true and pure as she was.

That Chung guy might have made a laughingstock out of the X-Files and their work, but there was one thing that Mulder was grateful for: the author had clearly taken a shine to Scully, and portrayed her in a very positive light. Hell, the guy practically made her a martyr, a beautiful, brainy saint stuck with a crazy partner in a dead-end department. That one phrase at the end, though, that hit the nail on the head. He'd said that Scully was "noble of heart and pure of spirit."

That was his Scully, all right. That was his partner.

"Of course I'm certain," he promised her. "The only thing I'm certain about is you. It's everything else I'm unsure about."

She smiled, her face taking on that soft glow that he loved. "Then trust me to come back when I leave. Like right now, because I have to pee."

He laughed as she slipped out of his arms, clambering off the bed and walking over to the motel bathroom. She flicked the light on and made to close the door.

"Scully?"

She half turned so that she could look at him over her shoulder, her nude body framed by the light, blurring the edges and making her look… well, to some she'd look like an angel, but to him it looked like she was about to be taken. He repressed the thought, focusing instead on the look on her face. Loving, but impatient.

"I love you."

"Uh-huh." Scully nodded. He could tell she was holding in laughter. "I love you too, which proves that I've become as crazy as you are."

"Mrs. Spooky," he reminded her, resting his hands behind his head.

She smiled at that, doing her best not to look amused and failing spectacularly. "Take care of that mess on the bed. I'll be out in a minute."

He just grinned at her as she closed the door, looking for all the world like he wasn't about to move an inch. The second the door clicked shut, however, he sprang to clean everything up so that the bed was ready when she came out again, slipping right back into his embrace and curling against him like she was made to do it.

And maybe she was. He wasn't always sure about God, and he definitely wasn't a fan of most organized religions, but when he held her like this, molding himself against her, it was hard not to wonder if maybe, just maybe, a Creator had made him, and her, with the other in mind. And maybe, just maybe, they were meant to be together, guided by an unseen, benevolent hand that looked into their futures and decided they needed a little saving grace to make up for all the darkness they'd be fighting through.

"I love you," Scully whispered, her voice carrying that gorgeous velvety quality that it took on whenever she was sleepy.

He held her close and decided that while most people might need more in the way of reassurance, especially considering the challenges they faced, this was enough. For him, it was more than enough.


End file.
